When I was young, a month at school,
Seemed more like a year.
And every year beyond my teens,
Time stepped up a gear.
By the time I got to middle age,
I started looking for the brake,
But time will wait for no man,
What ever steps we take.

Once I reached retirement age,
And time kept speeding on,
I recalled those fleeting years.
And wondered where they'd gone.
Though time's flown past,
And youth is gone,
Inside my head, those years live on.

The warp of time and weft of life,
Have woven in my mind,
A tapestry more graphic.
Than in Bayeux you'll find.
Every stitch a point in time,
In colours of every shade,
Reflecting both successes,
And mistakes I've made.

The bands of gold and silver threads,
Recurring frequently,
Are memories of happy times,
That loved ones shared with me.
The wartime years left patches,
Of sombre blue and grey,
Though bleached by time and mellowed,
They will never fade away.

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